Hudson making the 12U team is another reminder that he’s growing up so fast.
“Why don’t you let Hudson come out with the guys?” Sebastian adds. “We can take him out and get him drunk to celebrate.”
Not that my brother would ever consider doing such a thing with an eleven-year-old. Sebastian doesn’t drink anymore. Doesn’t do drugs either after years of being both a user and a dealer. The end of his rebellious years came to an abrupt halt because of me.
One more fault of mine, where I’ll gladly take the blame.
Not that I wanted my brother to serve time for committing a crime. He took his anger too far, just like our father used to do. My brother needed help, and I was the last person to offer assistance. Back then, I was following too closely behind him and his reckless ways, chasing my own demons and personal drug—sex—and coming up dissatisfied at every turn, every touch.
“Funny,” I counter before my mind heads down a slippery slope.
“Drunk on pizza and root beer, of course.” Sebastian winks at Hudson.
While I was looking forward to just the two of us celebrating, Hudson loves to spend time with his uncles. Some days I almostdon’tfeel bad that he doesn’t have his father around because he has six amazing uncles who love him and show him how to love others. Also, as Hudson has grown older, he’s fallen into deep admiration of his uncles and any opportunity to hang out with them makes him feel special.
The second Sebastian suggests Hudson go out with him, Hudson’s head is turning toward me, eyes wide, begging me to let him hang with the adult men in our family.
“If you want to . . .” I knock the ball into his court, knowing a time will come when he won’t pick me to continue being our team of two.
He’s already nodding and glancing back at Sebastian, who winks again.
“Well, as long as I’m getting dumped for the night, I’m gonna go corrupt your wife.”
Which is how I end up at Sebastian’s beautiful modern farmhouse outside of town.
“Give me that baby,” I whine, holding out my arm and wiggling my fingers at Enya to hand over her baby girl.
Enya’s acorn colored hair is swept up in a messy knot on the top of her head. She’s wearing her glasses, and an oversized shirt that looks like it belongs to my brother, and she still looks beautiful.
“I brought reinforcements.” I hold up a bottle of wine. “Trade ya,” I prompt again, wanting that little bundle in my arms.
“Bless you,” Enya teases, taking the bottle from my hand and passing over her precious newborn.
Enya isn’t much of a drinker on a good day and she won’t drink more than a glass because she’s nursing. She looks tired but happy. Her friendship has been a bright spot for me the past couple of years. Our family needed more women. For my brother, Enya’s been pure sunshine, lightening his dark days and bringing joy to his life.
With Annabelle in my arms, I sway side to side, inhaling her baby scent of special laundry detergent and lavender body wash. At only a few weeks old, she gazes aimlessly up at me and then fixates on the low lights overhead. Her dark hair is a reminder of Sebastian, although it’s probably baby fuzz she’lllose. Her eyes are still dark blue, a signature trait of being a Sylver. Looking at her brings the burn of tears again. My brother has come so far from who he was and truly deserves the happily ever after he has earned.
“How are you feeling?” I ask as Enya opens the wine bottle in their open concept kitchen and living space. The living room is an explosion of baby contraptions and toys for their soon-to-be two-year-old, Adara, who is quietly playing with a baby doll.
“I’m . . . exhausted.” But she smiles with a dreamy look in her eyes. At forty, she has two children and a husband, when she thought she’d be going it on her own with just Adara.
I’m not envious but I want what they have. That look in her eyes. That sigh of contentment. At thirty-four, I don’t think another baby is in the plan for me. For now, I’ll just snuggle up the one in my arms.
Lowering my head, I run my cheek across the top of Annabelle’s downy crown.
“So how are you?” Enya pours me a glass of wine. “How are the Sterlets? What’s the latest gossip?” She laughs, knowing all too well how our book club works.
“I don’t know if it’s gossip, but Hudson made the Haven Hitters baseball team.”
Enya finishes pouring my glass of wine and sets the bottle on the counter. Glancing up at me, she confidently states, “As we knew he would.”
Damn straight. “But the gossip part might be that the Haven brothers are the coaches.”
Enya tilts her head, forcing the knot of hair on top to wobble to the side. “But we also knew this.”
“I know. I just . . .” I lick my lips. “In my head, it didn’t seem like an issue. I could separate church and state. I mean, Trinity is a good friend, and boys can be dumb, but . . .”
Enya continues to watch me and I almost chicken out on mentioning my fear.
